Written By Tanith
March 15, 2021, 9:03 a.m.(2/12/1015 AR)
Supplemental, passed over upon returning to Arvum:
Boats.
Once it was warm enough to do so, I must have spent every hour of the day above deck. The mother I attend is sweetly tempered and tired; her day is coming soon, sooner, I think, than either of us suspected. We may be off shore when she gives birth and while that's not a problem, I find it a little funny. She, I think, less so.
Thank goodness her man is at hand; I can't comfort her and deliver at the same time, and I know most new mothers need it.
It's warm. So long as I can roam the ship and get some air, the trip will continue to be peaceful.
Boats.
Once it was warm enough to do so, I must have spent every hour of the day above deck. The mother I attend is sweetly tempered and tired; her day is coming soon, sooner, I think, than either of us suspected. We may be off shore when she gives birth and while that's not a problem, I find it a little funny. She, I think, less so.
Thank goodness her man is at hand; I can't comfort her and deliver at the same time, and I know most new mothers need it.
It's warm. So long as I can roam the ship and get some air, the trip will continue to be peaceful.
Written By Tanith
Feb. 27, 2021, 8:33 p.m.(1/9/1015 AR)
Cold season brings in more customers. More than harvest time or festival days; it's consistent and often and everyone just wants to stay warm and remember the sun will come back, bringing with it spring and warmer days. But I swear to Death, it seems like some of these folk born of warmer climes whine more and more every year.
There's a fire in the hearth and furs to curl up under, just hang in there for a couple of months, it gets warmer. Failing that, try the new drink at the Murder, the Liquid Furnace. It'll burn all the way down and burn all the way out.
There's a fire in the hearth and furs to curl up under, just hang in there for a couple of months, it gets warmer. Failing that, try the new drink at the Murder, the Liquid Furnace. It'll burn all the way down and burn all the way out.
Written By Tanith
Feb. 27, 2021, 8:30 p.m.(1/9/1015 AR)
Gone again, the both of them, and I know if I'm cold here without them, at least they have each other. I hope they don't need the extra wool socks I packed for them, but they're there. I hope the pies don't go to waste, and yet I hope they have some left over. I'm hoping they come back to me, safe and sound, and I hope they know I love them, always.
It's really quite handy that there always seems to be drinks here, scholar. Is that for you lot, or for us?
It's really quite handy that there always seems to be drinks here, scholar. Is that for you lot, or for us?
Written By Tanith
Feb. 24, 2021, 8:27 p.m.(1/3/1015 AR)
There was a terrible moment today where I thought I'd lost myself.
Instead, I found something important. Something about me.
Nothing will ever be the same.
Instead, I found something important. Something about me.
Nothing will ever be the same.
Written By Tanith
Feb. 22, 2021, 12:15 a.m.(12/26/1014 AR)
We're a pair, together. And it's funny, I mean that of all three of us. I'm in the middle in a lot of ways. They still remark on it, not as much as they used to because now it's a knowing smile and a kiss rather than words.
I hold the hand of one and I'm in the light and he's in the shadow. I hold hands with the other and he's in the sun and I'm the twilight. Not as dark as my husband but not as bright as -him-. In between. In the middle. The balance.
There's a spot between the heat and the cold where it's neither. There's a place between the ocean and the land where it's both. There's a time in the day when the sky is bright and the sun hasn't risen, or when the sun is gone and the stars haven't come out. The stars see both the moon and the sun, I bet.
That's me. That's us.
I've come off a long journey and I know I've got to head out again. I'm strong, I can manage on my own, but given a choice, I want us together, always. It's rough work, loving so much, so hard, and being loved so much, so hard; you get used to it. You want it all, you're spoiled for it forever.
I don't mind, but it gives me so much more to lose.
I hold the hand of one and I'm in the light and he's in the shadow. I hold hands with the other and he's in the sun and I'm the twilight. Not as dark as my husband but not as bright as -him-. In between. In the middle. The balance.
There's a spot between the heat and the cold where it's neither. There's a place between the ocean and the land where it's both. There's a time in the day when the sky is bright and the sun hasn't risen, or when the sun is gone and the stars haven't come out. The stars see both the moon and the sun, I bet.
That's me. That's us.
I've come off a long journey and I know I've got to head out again. I'm strong, I can manage on my own, but given a choice, I want us together, always. It's rough work, loving so much, so hard, and being loved so much, so hard; you get used to it. You want it all, you're spoiled for it forever.
I don't mind, but it gives me so much more to lose.
Written By Tanith
Feb. 22, 2021, 12:10 a.m.(12/26/1014 AR)
I don't know how Evaristo did it, being Voice of the Harlequins. Do you know how jarring it is to be -announced- like you're someone important? A spotlight on someone like me ought to be T R O U B L E. That it wasn't, well. I blame being cousin to the Dominus. Which. Don't get me started on that.
What? Of course I'm proud of him, scholar, who wouldn't be? It's just ... I mean if you'd told me when I was a kid my dashing, pretty cousin was going to wind up where he is now, I'd have tripped you into the docks, same as anyone else sounding like they had waking fever-dreams.
...no, I don't see the similarities. Also I'm married, thank you. Aureth never had to worry about -that-.
Anyway. Setarco is quite pretty and I'll be back. I'm still shaking the sand out of my shoes, and it's good to be home. I missed our home, though, and the dog, and our man, and I'm glad to be in the middle of all of it. Though we haven't see -him- since we got back. We may need to stake out his home, climb in his window and-
Right. That's no one's business, that is.
What? Of course I'm proud of him, scholar, who wouldn't be? It's just ... I mean if you'd told me when I was a kid my dashing, pretty cousin was going to wind up where he is now, I'd have tripped you into the docks, same as anyone else sounding like they had waking fever-dreams.
...no, I don't see the similarities. Also I'm married, thank you. Aureth never had to worry about -that-.
Anyway. Setarco is quite pretty and I'll be back. I'm still shaking the sand out of my shoes, and it's good to be home. I missed our home, though, and the dog, and our man, and I'm glad to be in the middle of all of it. Though we haven't see -him- since we got back. We may need to stake out his home, climb in his window and-
Right. That's no one's business, that is.
Written By Tanith
Feb. 15, 2021, 2:12 p.m.(12/10/1014 AR)
I dreamt of mice last night.
I watched them, tiny things, cluster in one of the little alcoves where we sleep. They pilled among each other, cold and trying to warm themselves. A line of them, a family, found safety in our den and it was nice.
I heard a squeak.
I searched for this wayward mouse: it was always so close! But when I turned my head I couldn't see it.
squeak!
It was in distress! I needed to find it.
Eventually, I realized the mouse wasn't near me- it was -in- me. It was in my ear! Stuck!
I reached into my left ear and caught the edge of it, and pulled and pulled- It was so stuck! With a -pop- it came free, wriggling, and I looked down at it in my head. It was relieved and sleepy, and I was relieved and sleepy. I put the baby mouse with its family and crawled back into bed amongst my lovers.
When I woke, I checked the alcove; it was empty.
I watched them, tiny things, cluster in one of the little alcoves where we sleep. They pilled among each other, cold and trying to warm themselves. A line of them, a family, found safety in our den and it was nice.
I heard a squeak.
I searched for this wayward mouse: it was always so close! But when I turned my head I couldn't see it.
squeak!
It was in distress! I needed to find it.
Eventually, I realized the mouse wasn't near me- it was -in- me. It was in my ear! Stuck!
I reached into my left ear and caught the edge of it, and pulled and pulled- It was so stuck! With a -pop- it came free, wriggling, and I looked down at it in my head. It was relieved and sleepy, and I was relieved and sleepy. I put the baby mouse with its family and crawled back into bed amongst my lovers.
When I woke, I checked the alcove; it was empty.
Written By Tanith
Feb. 7, 2021, 6:43 p.m.(11/23/1014 AR)
Helped a messenger with his horse in-foal. Everything went well, I was worried that my luck with human women wouldn't carry over to horses but it seems mother and bairn are doing fine.
Eh? Ah, yes; in some ways, harder. In other ways, much easier, scholar. Don't worry; I'll spare you the details.
What a strange weekend.
Eh? Ah, yes; in some ways, harder. In other ways, much easier, scholar. Don't worry; I'll spare you the details.
What a strange weekend.
Written By Tanith
Feb. 1, 2021, 12:26 a.m.(11/9/1014 AR)
Things I shouldn't do drunk and alone:
-baking cakes
-drinking
-writing poetry
-mopping
I'm sure this list ought to be longer.
-baking cakes
-drinking
-writing poetry
-mopping
I'm sure this list ought to be longer.
Written By Tanith
Feb. 1, 2021, 12:09 a.m.(11/9/1014 AR)
Being a mid-wife is a calling as profound as any divine summons, and I think I knew that even before the Queen came back to us. It makes more sense now, given what She governs and what She is to me. I chased my dreams of working at the Murder but I know what's always come easily to me, as much as I wanted to deny it. The first few times, it was my mother with my brothers, and then it was my brothers' bairns, and now- ...
I have no children of my own but I still feel like a mother. I've been the first to bring in so many new lives, it's hard not to feel like all of them have a small piece of me with them. They are not mine, though, I don't call it anything like possession. They've left their mark on me, every one, and who's to say that isn't a part of Her gift and calling?
I have no children of my own but I still feel like a mother. I've been the first to bring in so many new lives, it's hard not to feel like all of them have a small piece of me with them. They are not mine, though, I don't call it anything like possession. They've left their mark on me, every one, and who's to say that isn't a part of Her gift and calling?
Written By Tanith
Jan. 31, 2021, 11:15 p.m.(11/9/1014 AR)
This rain is something else and it's testing our roof.
I've run out of buckets.
I've run out of buckets.
Written By Tanith
Jan. 27, 2021, 4:57 p.m.(10/28/1014 AR)
It's been a good week.
The boys came home in one piece, the both of them.
I finally hung Samira's beautiful painting in the Salacious Bakery.
I got to deliver twins. -Always- a wonderful surprise, at least it is for me. I've had a few fathers faint and twice, a mother groaned, 'not again'.
...yes. Quite a good week.
The boys came home in one piece, the both of them.
I finally hung Samira's beautiful painting in the Salacious Bakery.
I got to deliver twins. -Always- a wonderful surprise, at least it is for me. I've had a few fathers faint and twice, a mother groaned, 'not again'.
...yes. Quite a good week.
Written By Tanith
Jan. 9, 2021, 7:43 p.m.(9/21/1014 AR)
You can taste autumn coming, and the memory of snow just behind it. I love the heat of summer and the cold of winter, especially because as it gets colder my bed feels warmer, with extra arms and limbs that appreciate that I'm a living furnace.
Time is passing and it's passing faster now that I've more things in my life. I've got more responsibilities than I did two years ago, more burdens and worries but a lot more joys too, most of all that pretty unexpected. Can't say I regret anything, but then I'm not usually a person bent on regretting the past.
I said a few days ago that I didn't like being the one safe at home; feels weird, feels wrong. I fret now than I ever thought possible, and the progress I made in having faith and living in the moment has gone sailing away by witnessing the after-effects of bad choices. While I don't think that's wrong, I think maybe there's middle ground between 'care-free and living large!' and 'mind-numbing frantic worry'. There has to be. I can only bake and drink so much.
I sound like I'm whining. Musing over my life as it's changed isn't that. Got some work to do, in me, and I mean to do it today.
Time is passing and it's passing faster now that I've more things in my life. I've got more responsibilities than I did two years ago, more burdens and worries but a lot more joys too, most of all that pretty unexpected. Can't say I regret anything, but then I'm not usually a person bent on regretting the past.
I said a few days ago that I didn't like being the one safe at home; feels weird, feels wrong. I fret now than I ever thought possible, and the progress I made in having faith and living in the moment has gone sailing away by witnessing the after-effects of bad choices. While I don't think that's wrong, I think maybe there's middle ground between 'care-free and living large!' and 'mind-numbing frantic worry'. There has to be. I can only bake and drink so much.
I sound like I'm whining. Musing over my life as it's changed isn't that. Got some work to do, in me, and I mean to do it today.
Written By Tanith
Dec. 31, 2020, 1:04 a.m.(9/1/1014 AR)
We all handle pain differently. Grief too; the price of love, that's grief, and if I'm honest it's one I'm willing to pay. I've written about that before, prayed about it even more than that. I am thankful what I've been given, I know it's so much more than most and I'll never take it for granted. To feel, to care; even those I have trouble understanding, it's precious, all of it. The opposite of love isn't hate; it's apathy.
...don't look at me like that, scholar. It's been a long few days and he hasn't come home yet.
...don't look at me like that, scholar. It's been a long few days and he hasn't come home yet.
Written By Tanith
Dec. 18, 2020, 11:53 p.m.(8/5/1014 AR)
Apparently, the new 'thing' to do at parties is to set one's self on fire so everyone can dump their drinks on you.
This is -genius-.
This is -genius-.
Written By Tanith
Dec. 13, 2020, 12:37 a.m.(7/21/1014 AR)
I made a skull made of cake this week. Red velvet and dipped in white frosting, carefully carving it away until it looked almost real. Then I etched flowers along the temples, down the mandible, and made a rose of candy to sprout from its teeth.
I left it somewhere as a gift to Death.
Or was I dreaming?
I left it somewhere as a gift to Death.
Or was I dreaming?
Written By Tanith
Dec. 7, 2020, 4:41 p.m.(7/10/1014 AR)
Well, I said I was retired but it's for a good cause to peek out, yeah? One more Breadcrumb book. An epilogue. To be bid on at the auction for the cathedral.
Good luck!
Good luck!
Written By Tanith
Dec. 7, 2020, 1:01 p.m.(7/10/1014 AR)
I smell like lemon-blueberry cake. Why do I-
Oh.
Lesson to the future generations of bakers: do -not- partake of haze-soaked tarts while within three feet of an oven.
There's cake fucking everywhere. Did I do this -by myself-?
My spatula is balanced on a rafter. How ...?
Oh.
Lesson to the future generations of bakers: do -not- partake of haze-soaked tarts while within three feet of an oven.
There's cake fucking everywhere. Did I do this -by myself-?
My spatula is balanced on a rafter. How ...?
Written By Tanith
Dec. 6, 2020, 11:18 p.m.(7/9/1014 AR)
It's lonely in the house so I can't stand it there. The Murder is alright but I've been there every night for three days, Merv is about to take a hit out on me and what's worse is I quite understand why:
I can't even stand -myself- when I'm like this.
But thank the gods for the bakery.
I made twenty six lemon-blueberry cakes. Twenty. Six. From 11'o'clock at night to 6'o'clock in the morning.
Half of them look awful. All of them taste delicious.
What the -fuck-, scholar; what was I supposed to do, sleep?
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFft. Ha.
Nah, they're all on sale and they're set to a ridiculous price. Not my best work, but they're fresh. Salacious Baker, aye, down in the Commons Courts. Bring a cart, they're ridiculously huge.
I can't even stand -myself- when I'm like this.
But thank the gods for the bakery.
I made twenty six lemon-blueberry cakes. Twenty. Six. From 11'o'clock at night to 6'o'clock in the morning.
Half of them look awful. All of them taste delicious.
What the -fuck-, scholar; what was I supposed to do, sleep?
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFft. Ha.
Nah, they're all on sale and they're set to a ridiculous price. Not my best work, but they're fresh. Salacious Baker, aye, down in the Commons Courts. Bring a cart, they're ridiculously huge.
Written By Tanith
Dec. 6, 2020, 6:40 p.m.(7/9/1014 AR)
Did I remark yet on past lives, scholar? Probably not. Since learning more of it I've left it be to chew on the edges of my thoughts.
It's a strange place to be; I feel like it's a gift to not remember. Who wants that burden, the grief that comes with missing people who don't know you? Or worse, they're alive and you rake open old wounds now that the grief is easier to handle. It's a mercy, a gift, this new beginning, it has to be every time. It feels like it is.
So I struggle a bit; do you take this glimpse back into who you were, knowing that it's a bit like slapping away a boon? Or do you let the layers peel back and read every inch of skin for all the details you'd forgotten?
I don't know. Death goes through all this trouble of blanketing what came before, wraps us in the comfort of forgetting, it feels ...
I've lost the word, scholar. I won't say 'rude'; even I know sometimes all information is necessary, both the clever and the secret and the harrowing. What if a person doesn't need to know these things, and they're just after it for vanity's sake?
No. No, it's not for me to judge, but even so I know where I stray. At least, not without permission.
It's a strange place to be; I feel like it's a gift to not remember. Who wants that burden, the grief that comes with missing people who don't know you? Or worse, they're alive and you rake open old wounds now that the grief is easier to handle. It's a mercy, a gift, this new beginning, it has to be every time. It feels like it is.
So I struggle a bit; do you take this glimpse back into who you were, knowing that it's a bit like slapping away a boon? Or do you let the layers peel back and read every inch of skin for all the details you'd forgotten?
I don't know. Death goes through all this trouble of blanketing what came before, wraps us in the comfort of forgetting, it feels ...
I've lost the word, scholar. I won't say 'rude'; even I know sometimes all information is necessary, both the clever and the secret and the harrowing. What if a person doesn't need to know these things, and they're just after it for vanity's sake?
No. No, it's not for me to judge, but even so I know where I stray. At least, not without permission.
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